


Unearthly

by BambiDoe



Series: Abandoned Works [2]
Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: M/M, coffee shop/ diner au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-03
Updated: 2016-03-21
Packaged: 2018-05-24 13:25:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6155116
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BambiDoe/pseuds/BambiDoe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frank meets a very, very strange customer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Another fic I've started that will take forever to finish. Sorry in advance!

Mornings at the diner are always busy. Frank rushes from table to table, refilling orange juices and handing out receipts. Most of the regular customers are retired elderly couples. Who else has time to get up and eat a full breakfast that early anyway?

There’s a man with bright red hair and a blue suit sitting by himself at a booth. He looks uncomfortable and out of place. Frank suspects he might be someone famous. No one else just casually dresses like that. He wants to talk to the man but, unfortunately, he’s all the way on the other side of the diner. Bert is supposed to be serving those tables.

“Bert!” Frank calls. Something tells him that he needs to talk to this guy before he leaves. “Do you want me to take some of your tables so you can go on break?”

It usually doesn’t take much to get Bert to say yes. Out of all of the diner’s employees, Frank is the one he likes the best. 

“I don’t know. I wanna serve that weird guy.” Bert says.

He must feel the same way Frank does.

“I wanna serve him too. Maybe you can take his drink order and then I’ll bring it to him. That way we both get a chance.”

Bert furrows his brow like he’s considering it. He can’t say no to that.

“Alright. I’ll let you take his order but, you have to serve that family with the five kids next time they come in.”

The family is obnoxious and they never tip more than a dollar no matter how good the service is but, Frank accepts Bert’s offer and promises to give him all of the details as soon as he’s done. It’ll be worth it.

“Hi. I’m sorry about the wait. It’s been a busy morning. My name is Frank and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I get you anything to drink? We offer free refills on coffee until noon.” 

“I’ll have a coffee.” The man says. He sounds vaguely annoyed by Frank’s presence and it’s disappointing. Frank is only doing his job. This guy might not be as cool and interesting as Frank had hoped. He’s probably just some pretentious asshole who thinks he’s hot shit because he wears suits every day.

“Would you like cream or sugar with it?” Frank asks. 

“Sugar.”

And then he goes back to looking at the menu.

“What did he get?” Bert asks, when Frank returns to the kitchen. 

“Just a coffee. He seems like a dick to be honest. You can take his order from here if you want.”

Frank’s curiosity is satisfied. Red Haired Man is a fake. There’s nothing special about him. Bert, on the other hand, is still excited to interact with him. Nothing Frank says will deter him from going over to his table and bringing him his coffee.

“I’m gonna tell him I like his hair.” Bert says. He pours the coffee unto the mug, spilling a tiny bit of it onto the counter. “Maybe he’ll like me better.”

Frank watches as he takes the mug over to Red haired Man’s table.

He forgot the sugar.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have no real plans for this story except a vague plot so it's gonna have really short chapters just fyi

Red Haired Man shows up again the next morning.

Same time.

Same seat.

Same suit.

This time, Frank is ready to talk to him. He rehearses the script he has in his head, over and over again. 

“That weird dude is back.” Bert says, quietly. It doesn’t matter if the man can hear him or not because Bert stares right at him as he’s speaking. Subtlety isn’t really his thing. “Yesterday, he didn’t fuckin’ tip because I forgot to bring his sugar.”

In reality, if he considered it to be shitty service, the man has a right to not tip but, Frank feels Bert’s pain. Living off of less than minimum wage sucks.

“I’ll serve him this time, if you want.” Frank says. 

Bert smiles as he fills several glasses with ice. He knows what Frank is doing. It’s obvious that he wants to talk to him again.

“That’s cool with me. The old couple that brings their grandkids sometimes always come in on Fridays. I’ll take their table.”

And then he’s gone before Frank can even reply; carrying a tray full of raspberry lemonades and iced teas.

Red Haired Man sits his menu down on the table and Frank takes it as some kind of cue to approach. Here goes nothing.

“Hello. My name is Frank and I’ll be your waiter today. Can I get you started with anything?”

“Just a coffee.”

He seems annoyed, again. Frank doesn’t understand why. This is what happens at restaurants. You go, sit down, and then someone comes and asks you what you want. If you don’t want someone to ask you what you want, you don’t fuckin’ go to a restaurant. There’s nothing to be angry about.

“Would you like cream or sugar?”

 

“I would really like sugar but, last time I was here, the guy forgot it so...” He trails off waving one of his hands towards the kitchen.”

“I’m so sorry about that, sir. I’ll be sure it gets to you this time. Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No. That’s all.”

He didn’t follow the script but, it’s not too late. Frank still has another shot. When he brings his coffee (and sugar), he’ll ask him something. He doesn’t quite know what that it, yet but, he’ll figure it out when he gets there.

Hundreds of people come in every day but, for some reason, this guy just really stands out.

Across the room, Frank can see Bert glancing over his shoulder, trying to see what the man is doing. It’s not just Frank. Other people must sense something about him, too.

“Here you go, sir. One coffee, and some extra sugar just in case.”

The man looks down at his mug and then back up at Frank.

“Please don’t call me ‘sir’. That’s not really something I’m comfortable with.”

Oh no.

Frank’s face feels like it might actually give the sun a run for it’s money as far as heat goes. 

“I’m sorry. It’s just something we’re trained to do here. It’s supposed to give the place an old-fashioned vibe y’know?”

He feels so bad for assuming. Most people that come by are old, though. They’re the kind of people that believe that genitals equals gender. No one has ever complained about it. In fact, they all find it endearing when the young “tatted-up-punk-kid” waiters call them ma’am or sir. 

The man looks intently into Frank’s eyes. 

“I understand. Thank you.”

Then, he takes a sip of his coffee.


End file.
